The Ink On Her Skin

He shivered as my fingers danced over his back, and his hand caught my right wrist. "I got it when I was fifteen," he said, his voice husky.

"That's pretty young for that big a tattoo," I replied, trying to ignore the fact that he was pressing himself closer to me, and his hand was still on me.

"You're not as tough as I initially thought," he whispered, touching my shoulder. "As soon as I saw you, I already knew I wanted you. And I thought it would be harder than it is."

I stared at him, my finger trailing from his lips, over his nose and over to his side burn peeking out from the gray beanie I saw him in when we first met. As I leaned up to press my lips against his plush pink ones, I murmured, "You're not at the finishing line, yet, Asshole."

I'M NOT GOOD WITH DESCRIPTIONS. BUT GIVE IT A CHANCE :D))